Crimson Pearls
by This Rhythm
Summary: There's a reason why Bruce thinks the pearls look better on Selina than Mrs. Wayne. "His mother was murdered because of these Goddamn shiny pieces of crap. Keeping these is akin to taking photographs of dead bodies and hanging them up in his room. It makes him feel twisted and perverse. There's no need to fix them."


**A/N: I lied. Sorry. I said I wasn't going to write another Dark Knight fic, but lo and behold! I couldn't hold back. I want to give some credit to those reviewers who checked out my last story ("Kaleidoscope Hearts") and said I should write some more fics. So thanks for inspiring me. I especially want to thank Fatima Rothko for suggesting I write in Bruce's POV. :) **

**When I was watching DKR I kept wondering why Bruce said the pearls looked better on Selina than his mother. I got home and thought they might be the same pearls his mother wore when she died. Anyway, I watched _Batman Begins_ last night and it _is_ the same necklace. Sorry there isn't much on here (it's definitely not my best work, either) and not a lot of Bruce/Selina :( **

**So, enjoy this rather small fic and pardon any grammatical mistakes (God, I need a beta). And always, reviews are appreciated. **

* * *

The lady officer hands a tiny black bag before he leaves the station. She gives him a sad smile and says, "We found these next . . . We just thought you wanted them." Her badge reads Officer Mary Saunders, and while Bruce should be thankful he kind of isn't. This tiny bag will always remind him of tonight. He certainly doesn't need any more reminders.

* * *

Bruce is seventeen when he decides to take the bag to the jewelers. It's the first time he's opened it since _that_ day. He's sitting in his room as he examines the pearls, twirling them under the sunlight. There's no stain, not even a scratch. He thought there might be blood on a few of them since it was resting on his mother's neck when she died, but clearly the officers did a good job of cleaning them.

This probably isn't the right way to handle his parent's death six years later. His mother was murdered because of these Goddamn shiny pieces of crap. Keeping these is akin to taking photographs of dead bodies and hanging them up in his room. It makes him feel twisted and perverse. There's no need to fix them.

He ends up driving the Rolls anyway and heads out to the shop, the bag of pearls burning through his pockets.

* * *

Alfred didn't know about his trip until the jewelers called. He ventures into his room and asks, "Where did you find them, Master Wayne?"

Bruce is sitting on his bed, attempting to do homework with no avail. He's slipping in school; he rarely does his assignments, but come test time there's always a big fat 'A' written at the top. Besides, homework is for nerds. As far as Bruce is concerned he is _not _a nerd.

"They gave it to me that night. I've had them ever since."

The butler walks towards the bed, a melancholy look stuck on his face. "If I may say, Master Wayne, I think you should –"

"No," Bruce replies through his teeth. He glances at Alfred and for a second he looks afraid. "I'm not giving them away. They were my mother's. These pearls are one thing that bastard didn't take from me."

Several heartbeats later, Alfred says, "Best you watch your language, Master Wayne. And my job is to only look after you. I hope you know that." He lowers his head and quietly exits the room, leaving Bruce feeling shitty and mean.

* * *

Over the years, the necklace provides him the drive to get vengeance. Sometimes he fantasizes about killing Joe Chill, then handing him the pearls and whispering some cruel thing to him. Other times, Bruce feels so petty and immature he thinks about chucking the necklace out into the river. But still, he keeps it tucked away and waits for the day to do something about it.

* * *

He hasn't had an inkling like this for nearly eight years. His body is broken but Bruce slowly crouches down and opens the safe regardless. Sure enough, the pearls are gone and he's left feeling extremely perplexed. The necklace has a tracking device on them so finding it shouldn't be an issue. Now that he thinks about it, it might be a problem. The person who broke into this safe is obviously skilled and has done their research.

Languidly, Bruce searches the area and looks for clues. Everything is clean and untouched. As he walks about, he doesn't know why he's worried about losing them. Ten years ago it was a source of comfort, a source of revenge, and now it sits in a fancy box that plainly can't withstand _any_ robbery.

Out of all the things that remind him of his mother, it is these pearls. It's sad that he has reduced his mother's presence into an object so tiny and so insignificant. And yet, it is unbelievably real. He can remember the look of fear in her eyes, the shrill scream and her cold hands. All Bruce has to do is touch the necklace and relive the memories. He finds himself doing it now and then. Sometimes he likes torturing himself and other times it helps him fight; it gives him a purpose. It's odd how a piece of jewelry morphs into something he finds comfort in and quickly changes back to memories he doesn't want to remember. He feels like a sadist, but he can't seem to let it go.

* * *

She comes into his private area and snoops around. She's tall and slim and brunette, her heels clacking on the marble floors. Bruce had tracked her down yesterday, and when he found out the tiny dot was roaming around Wayne Manor, well, he was surprised. Either she's an idiot who doesn't know when to leave, or she has some unfinished business.

Maybe he should scare her with a little bedtime story. Maybe he should recount the night his parents died, and how the pearls fell onto the street, skidding and sliding everywhere. Maybe he should explain that those pearls are soaked in blood, and she really ought to take them off. That'll show her not to mess with other people's items.

Bruce confronts her and is startled when he sees how innocent she appears. But as he continues to call her bluff, her eyes narrow, her head drops, a sly smile forms on her lips and she utters: "Oops."

It looks as if tonight he can't frighten her. Not yet. She's too smart and too _good_.

* * *

It's been a while since he's gone out. Alright, it's been more than a while. When he walks into the grand hall, Bruce is amazed at how little these events have changed. This – pretending to like people, smiling and drinking – he can do. Bruce looks around and he spots her charming an older man, stealing some cash from his wallet.

Bruce should just let her keep it. Or maybe not. Perhaps he could give it to for rent; that way, he'll get a nice sum every month and know she's taking care of the necklace. When Bruce said the necklace looked better on Selina than his mother, he actually meant it. Seeing the necklace on someone else repaired the pearls' previously flawed image. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't reminded of that fateful night. Instead, he was reminded of a delicate collarbone and porcelain skin.

Instead of Bruce being able to frighten her, she whispers into his ear about a storm coming, and damn it, he really wanted the upper hand tonight and not talk about the possibility of another war. In the end, he takes the necklace away, worried about the future and worried he might lose touch with his past. He's not ready to let go and he's afraid of what's to come.

At least Miss Kyle seems prepared.

* * *

He has to be careful when he breaks into his old home. Wayne Manor has a pretty fancy alarm system, so he has to get around it first. As Bruce walks inside, he's hit with a sense of nostalgia. He remembers when he and Rachel would run up and down the stairs, when he and his father would walk and goof around, and the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting up to his nose every Saturday morning.

Several months – several _years_ – ago Bruce wasn't sure what he wanted in life. He's still not sure. But leaving Gotham is a must. In order to be himself, in order to _free_ himself, he needs to leave.

He grabs a few clothing items and is about to head underground when he stops. There, in that tiny cabinet is where his mother's pearls lay. He spends a good five minutes debating with himself. For a while small, simple things reminded him of terrible times, such as this necklace. As Bruce thinks about it, it's actually pretty silly. All this time Bruce made the pearls as a sacred item because he felt connected to his mother, and it kept reminding him of why he's where he's at today. But objects are objects; it all depends on what you make it to be. Bruce should focus on how well it looked on his mother when she was alive, not when she was dead. He should focus moving on and living the life his parents, Rachel and Alfred want him to live.

As he stealthily opens the safe and takes out the necklace, his mind isn't assaulted with dark thoughts. His mind is open and clear, and Bruce knows this is only the beginning.


End file.
